


BPM

by winterdesu



Category: Uragiri wa Boku no Namae wo Shitteiru
Genre: M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, descriptions of burns, somewhat angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-19
Updated: 2015-05-19
Packaged: 2018-03-31 07:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3969409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterdesu/pseuds/winterdesu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Hotsuma and Shuusei, heartbeat means everything. </p>
<p>Hotsuma is Shuusei's everything.</p>
<p>Shuusei is Hotsuma's everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	BPM

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charkbites](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charkbites/gifts).



> Hello, I'm crashing into yet another fandom. I saw Shuusei and Hotsuma and I just knew I can't not write about them.  
> I tried something new for the organization, hopefully no one will be confused about the order of things..?  
> Char, this is for you again. Enjoy, dear twinenie!

The pavement was so dark and wet that it resembled a shiny expanse of obsidian beneath Hotsuma’s feet, reflecting hazy patches of light from the streetlamps overhead – just enough to illuminate the familiar path he had treaded countless times.

            Rain pattered around him and battered his face like a million tiny, needle-like bullets. Drops of it stuck to his eyelashes, mixing with still-wet tears that had already stopped falling, blurring his vision further.

            Just ahead, the house’s windows glowed warm gold from the lights inside, unlike the harsh, violent scarlet of his flames.

            Hotsuma rushed right up to the door, skidding to a stop to lean heavily against the wall, struggling to steady his breathing. His lungs burned as he drew in oxygen that his flames thrived on.

            Everything was a mess: they know _they know they know_ fuck _fuck fuck fuckfuckfuckfuck they know they know they know_. But one thing made sense out of it. _Need Shuusei only Shuusei because only Shuusei understands._

He told himself to get it together, in case it was Shuusei’s parents at the door, and raised his hand to ring the doorbell.

            The familiar bell chimed inside the house, and muffled, hurried footsteps came to answer almost immediately. The door opened to reveal Shuusei in his indoor clothes, hair still damp. He must have just taken a shower.

            “Hotsuma?” Shuusei asked, brown eyes wide and concern evident in his voice.

            The high-strung, anxious energy that remained in Hotsuma drained away at the mere _sight_ of Shuusei like a bath being unplugged, sinking to the bottom of his heart and swirling away into mere slivers of nervousness.

            “Shuusei, I…”

            Something inside of Hotsuma admired Shuusei’s patience for all his issues and word-fumbling.

            “Shuusei,” he began, and swallowed thickly. “They know. They all know I set people on fire.”

            There was no vocal reply, but Shuusei pulled him – impossibly gentle – to close the distance between them. Hotsuma let himself fall forward and rest his forehead on Shuusei’s shoulder.

            The following silence prompted Hotsuma to continue speaking.

            “No one even tries to look at me anymore.”

            Shuusei’s hand went to his shoulder.

            “Shuusei.. I’m really here, aren’t I?

            The fingers tightened every so slightly around his shoulder. Shuusei’s fingers were firm and solid; his palm warm and steady, anchoring him to reality and life – even though for this short while, Hotsuma felt a little more alive. A little more real.

            It was Shuusei. It had always been Shuusei who had made him feel that he _was worth_ existing. He knew – they both knew that they needed each other to live on. Shuusei needed Hotsuma, and Hotsuma needed Shuusei. They would not have it any other way.

            Shuusei’s arms slid downwards to circle his body, crushing him into an uncharacteristically intimate hug, one hand coming up the back of Hotsuma’s head to press his face into the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

            Hotsuma breathed into the familiar scent of Shuusei’s warm skin, the soft smell of his body wash and detergent of the fresh shirt lingering comfortingly.

            He closed his eyes and relaxed in Shuusei’s embrace. _Shuusei… his sanctuary, his anchor, his everything._

            Ear pressed up against the side of Shuusei’s neck, Hotsuma could sense his best friend’s quickened pulse. A rush of guilt flooded him. He must have made Shuusei frantic – only God knew how worried Shuusei could be for him.

            _But I can feel it. Shuusei is here. That means I’m here too… right?_

            Shuusei’s heartbeat reverberated warmly all around him, saying _I’m here, you’re here; I’ll always be here. Even if the whole world turns its back on you, I’ll still be here._

            They released each other after a long while, but Shuusei’s hand slid down the length of Hotsuma’s arm lightly to hold his hand in his.

            “Come in,” Shuusei said, giving him the smile that he never gave anyone else (to Hotsuma’s knowledge, not even his own parents). “Take a warm shower and stay the night. Only if you want.”

            Hotsuma nodded mutely, struggling to find the strength to smile back at Shuusei.

            As usual, no words are needed.

            Shuusei closed the door behind them and led Hotsuma away from the pouring rain, into the house almost as warm as Shuusei’s eyes.

 

 

:.

 

 

            Hotsuma liked many things about moving into the Twilight Mansion, like the good food, the cool décor, the lack of parents… Things like that. But what he liked the most was that he could visit Shuusei anytime he felt like – provided that he was within the mansion, of course.

            Shuusei was no longer at the end of the street. Only a thin wall between their rooms separated their personal living spaces. Not that they actually slept alone in their own beds often.

            By some unspoken agreement, Shuusei let Hotsuma crawl in whenever he wanted, or vice versa, and they often slept together, in fact both of them fitting very much comfortably in the gigantic beds they were each provided with. Every other morning, they woke up holding the other’s hand, or spooning each other. It was a little strange at first, but it very quickly became another habit of theirs.

            It was perhaps some of the subconscious practices of when they were married in one of their past lives. (Which reminded him, Shuusei was just as beautiful now as he was back then.)

            Anyhow, life at Twilight Mansion suited Hotsuma much more than life at his parents’ home ever did. Here, he was wanted and was treated as normal a human being someone like himself could possibly ask for.

            Some nights, Hotsuma sat with Shuusei at their favourite window looking out to an uninterrupted expanse of night sky, counting each individual star in the splash of diamonds across velvet black, pointing out the constellations and spinning their own fables about the creatures among the stars.

            This night, like any other night, they sat at the windowsill, sharing a blanket and each sipping at a mug of hot tea, elbows and knees pressed against each other’s.

            “Maybe all the stars are like those light balls of yours,” Hotsuma said, chuckling at Shuusei’s sigh of exasperation.

            “Didn’t you learn anything in school? Stars are all giant balls of gas. Perhaps real fire demons live among them.”

            “Heh. You’re delusional,” Hotsuma huffed, but he was probably smirking stupidly into the open window. He took Shuusei’s hand into his out of reflex, pressing their palms against each other’s and intertwining their fingers together.

            Shuusei smiled back – the kind of smile that lit up his pretty brown eyes and made them glow with a comforting warmth that Hotsuma’s flames could never gentle down to.

            They simultaneously looked down at their linked hands, then Shuusei moved, just the slightest, aligning the insides of their wrists together.

            Hotsuma imagined his partner’s familiar pulse seeping into his own skin and into his veins, synchronizing their heartbeats until they pounded together as one.

            He remembered, the billionth time since the horrible day, that he had almost extinguished this precious life – their precious lives. Neither of them could go on without the other, after all.

            Looking up into the starry sky, at the silver spray of glimmering stars against pitch black, of which light that could never hope to outshine the radiance of Shuusei’s beautiful smile.

            _I just want to see him smile more. I want him to be happy._

_I don’t want to hurt him anymore._

            Beside him, Shuusei shifted slightly, the movement causing his half-buttoned shirt to expose a sliver of the scars right over his still-beating heart– proof that Hotsuma had caused hurt towards even his most treasured person.

            _I’ll spend my entire life atoning for this._

 

 

:.

 

 

            Everything was burning. Orange and gold roared and crackled, drowning the voices of the demons inside his head.

            It was the only thing he could do, wasn’t it?

            “Hotsuma!” a familiar voice cried. “Hotsuma!” Shuusei sounded hoarse and desperate. “Don’t do this. I can’t – I lo –”

            Shuusei stumbled into Hotsuma’s arms and into his flaming embrace, clothes torn and charred and face smudged with soot. “Hotsum –” He crumbled into ashes before his eyes.

            Hotsuma cried out, grabbing futilely at the dispersing remains of his partner.

            The flames died down, revealing the horrible chamber and the horrible Duras woman. Shuusei was tied up at the cross; skin burnt black and flaking off his body in pieces.

            Shuusei opened his eyes but they stared blank, empty, _dead._

Hotsuma screamed until his throat exploded.

***

            Hotsuma jerked awake in his own bed, swathed in his blankets, cold sweat drenching his back and forehead. The palms of his hands were clammy. “Shuusei,” he breathed, heart pounding wildly in his ribcage.

            “Are you quite alright?”

            Hotsuma turned to see a slightly sleepy-eyed Shuusei staring at him from the other side of the bed. Right. Hotsuma had decided to hijack Shuusei’s bed last night.

            “I – yeah. Just a bad dream.” Hotsuma turned his body to face Shuusei entirely, to meet his eyes.

            “Just?” Shuusei asked, raising one cynical eyebrow. “I smell something burning,” he said drily. He sat up slowly, unhurriedly – it was Saturday after all – and pushed back the covers to reveal a blackened patch of sheets between them. Right where Hotsuma’s hand had been.

            Hotsuma shot right up into sitting position.

            “Shit. Did I -?”

            Shuusei shook his head. Even so, Hotsuma grabbed the hand that had been next to the burnt patch and examined it carefully.

            _Thank fuck_.

            “That’s the third time in two weeks,” Shuusei said, inclining his head the slightest. Dark brown hair fell into his eyes and Hotsuma resisted the urge to reach forward to brush the stray strands aside.

            _How the hell did Shuusei always manage to vocalize his thoughts though?_ “I know,” Hotsuma chose to grumble instead. “I’m fine, dammit.” The rush of adrenaline died down, leaving his eyelids heavy and his body craving the soft warmth of the cocoon of blankets.

            They simultaneously lay back down onto the bed, Hotsuma settling on his side to face Shuusei, propping an arm under his head and met Shuusei’s expectant gaze.

            Shuusei smiled slightly at him but his eyes looked more like a mix between worry and sadness.

            There was not a single time Hotsuma didn’t cave.

            “I burned you again,” Hotsuma said quietly. “The Duras hag was there and your eyes were empty.” He inhaled, and exhaled, recalling how Shuusei looked. “I –” he swallowed. “I shouted for you to wake but it didn’t work.”

            “It’s a bad dream,” Shuusei reminded him. “It worked last time.” He reached forward and Hotsuma let him take hold of his wrist and place his over his chest.

            Hotsuma traced his fingertips almost unconsciously over the place where he knew the burn scars were. “You’re here.” He couldn’t help but close his eyes and bath in their shared warmth.

            Shuusei made a funny noise between a huff of fondness and sigh of exasperation. “I am,” he answered anyway. “You saved me, remember?”

            Laying the palm of his hand flat against Shuusei’s chest, Hotsuma could feel each steady thump of his heart, could feel the way his ribcage expand with each breath he took.

            Wordlessly, Shuusei’s arms wrapped around him, reliable and concrete – the way he had always been for Hotsuma, holding him close, whispering over and over, “It’s okay. We’re both okay.”

            Hotsuma fell asleep to the soft warmth of shared body heat, the merciful, peeping rays of morning sun and the sure thrum of Shuusei’s beating heart against his fingertips.

 

 

:.

 

 

            Waves of heat rose and surged.

            Shuusei watched Hotsuma begin to burn mere meters away. His back was to Shuusei, but his shoulders heaved and hitched with telltale dry sobs.

            The temperature shot up around them, air becoming thin, hot oxygen that Shuusei struggled to draw with each breath. The scent of charred fabric and burnt hair filled the space with alarming speed.

            For a split second he was rooted to the spot, unable to move a muscle, frozen by the sheer horror of the sight before him.

            Then he found the strength to propel himself forward, screaming at the top of his lungs, “ _Hotsuma_!” with the same goal in his mind.

            Painful seconds later, he finally reached his partner and he flung himself at him with all his might.

            Circling his arms around Hotsuma’s waist, Shuusei clutched to him desperately from behind.

            Everything was _hot_ _scorching can’t breathe dry eyes agony._ The fabric of Hotsuma’s shirt was dry and stiff from the heat, the edges in fact crumbling into black soot in between Shuusei’s fingers.

He wondered dimly, through his adrenaline-laced desperation and fear, whether the blinding pain at his chest was merely skin-shallow or soul-deep.

“Fucking idiot! Let go of me! You’ll burn too!” Hotsuma cried out, voice cracking and breaking. Shuusei had never heard him sound so in pain before.

            “No!” Shuuseiscreamed back, choking back his own sobs. “ _No._ I won’t let you go. If you do this, we can’t ever be together again!” His mind was strangely empty yet so strangely full at the same time, only Hotsuma, Hotsuma… _Renjou Hotsuma. His idiotic fire demon. His past husband. His everything._

The unspoken hung between them in the air. _I can’t lose you. You’re my only and my all. I love you._

            The flames grew around them, licking up precious oxygen, singeing skin, hair and fabric.

            Shuusei tightened his grip around his one and only partner. He could feel Hotsuma’s heartbeat beneath his palms, fast and hard and irregular. Shuusei was sure his own pulse was the same – erratic with fear and desperation.

            Full of life.

            “If you still want to die, then take me with you!”

 

 

:.

 

 

 

            It took all of Hotsuma to stop the fire.

            He screamed until his throat was raw and tasted of rust, forcing the flames to go down, down, _down, dammit_ , _DOWN._ His head pounded and felt light and unbalanced with his body.

            He was vaguely aware of Shuusei’s arms still clutching determinedly at his waist. Turning to look, he realized that Shuusei had slid down onto his knees at some point, yet still had held on to Hotsuma despite everything.

            The ground around them – approximately a four-meter radius (five?) – was completely trashed. A giant black circle was burned into the ground, fueled by self-hatred and blinding fury at himself. _Shit._

            “Shuusei,” he said, and his throat throbbed at the sudden gentler speech, so accustomed it was to screaming over the last minutes. “Shuusei, I stopped it.”

            There was no reply. Instead, the arms around his waist slipped loose.

            “Shuusei!”

            Hotsuma immediately crouched down, instantly greeted with a prone Shuusei, lying unmoving on the burnt ground. His face was so pale against the blackened earth, smudged with soot, lips cracked from the earlier heat. (But he was still the most beautiful thing Hotsuma had ever set eyes on.)

            Hotsuma turned Shuusei onto his back, so his head rested on Hotsuma’s lap. To his greatest relief, his partner’s eyes cracked open to reveal thin slivers of brown. “H-Hotsuma…” His voice sounded so hoarse, nothing like the smooth, calm tones Hotsuma was used to.

            “Thank fuck,” Hotsuma breathed out shakily. “Thank _fuck.”_

“Hotsuma…” Shuusei whispered. “Hotsuma… hurts…”

            Hotsuma’s heart stopped. “Where?” his own voice was barely above Shuusei’s low hoarse. Something wobbled dangerously in Hotsuma’s throat, threatening to rise up and choke him.

            “H-here…” Shuusei’s hand made attempt to unbutton his half-burnt shirt. Hotsuma pushed his hands aside as gently as he could at the moment, and did it for him with trembling fingers.

            Over the pale expanse of Shuusei’s chest, were angry, shining burns, bright crimson and surrounded by black, the worst of it right over his heart.

            _He almost killed Shuusei._

            “Shuusei,” Hotsuma breathed. “Fuck, _fuck._ I’m a fucking idiot. I-I’m so sorry. _I’m so sorry._ ” He gritted his teeth to stop himself from screaming out loud. Something started roaring inside his head, drowning out all his thoughts, filling it with regret, guilt, and even more intense hatred at himself.

            “…otsuma… Hotsuma.”

            Shuusei was talking to him. Why was he even trying to talk to him? He should get away from him, quickly, as far as possible!

            “It’s alright.”

            “Fuck, Shuusei! It’s not _alright_ , I almost kil-”

            A hand wrapped itself around Hotsuma’s wrist, guiding his fingers slowly towards the terrible, burnt chest.

            “Put it here,” Shuusei insisted softly when Hotsuma tried to pull away, afraid to cause Shuusei further pain.

            He complied, carefully, gently laying his hand onto the raw, scarlet burn. Then he felt it. Heartbeat thumped determinedly beneath the destroyed skin and flesh, speaking of  _life._

            “Sh-Shuusei…”

            “I’m here, Hotsuma.” When he met his eyes, they were filled with nothing but gentle warmth and comfort. “I’ll always be, as long as you need me.”

            _What had he ever done to deserve someone like him?_

Stupid, beautiful selfless Shuusei, he did not know how selfish Hotsuma could really be. _I’ll always need you. I want you here by my side forever, even though I hurt you so deeply._

Hotsuma did not realize he was crying until Shuusei reached up to his face to wipe his tears away, smiling faintly and eyes asking why.

            He closed his eyes and focused on the steady thrum of life inside the mutilated chest beneath the light touch of his fingers.

            “I’m just glad you’re alive.”


End file.
